


Monsters and Men

by tapsters



Series: Monsters and Men [1]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Borgia AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Multi, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-18 02:15:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tapsters/pseuds/tapsters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In order to protect his family, Malcolm Hawke returns to his ancestral homeland: the Tevinter Imperium. In a few short years, he is a magister and has returned the Hawke family to its former glory.</p>
<p>Now, Malcolm is the newly elected Divine of the Imperial Chantry and the Hawkes have set into motion their plan to become the most powerful family in Tevinter.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p><br/><i>Power will intoxicate the best hearts, as wine the strongest heads.</i><br/>- Charles Caleb Colton</p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**T** here must have been thousands standing out in the rain that day. They lined all along the edges of the road, some wrapped in heavy shawls and others enduring the rain in fine cloaks made of expensive wool. Garrett watched them all, or as many as he could see and wondered how this would have been different if the sun had shone instead. Perhaps they would have cheered for their Divine when he followed behind his Templar Knights on a horse with brilliant white fur. Perhaps they would have waved branches of olive trees and sang the Chant of Light with such conviction, it would have moved the Maker and His Bride.  
  
It could have been worse, Garrett supposed. He had heard the stories of a Divine so hated that the people threw stones at him during his parade. Here, he could see a few faces light up with anticipation when the carriage inlaid with gold ambled along the wet cobbled streets. There were only a few who looked absolutely miserable; everyone else was stoic or actually glad to see their new Divine as he made his way to the Argent Spire. Yes, it could’ve been so much worse.  
  
The procession carried on and Garrett continued to lead the way. He could see the Spire’s towers, rising white and clean against the sky’s grey backdrop. The marble steps were swept clean and polished to shine. The call to stop sounded from the Knight-Commander and the Templars obeyed with expert precision. Garrett dismounted and soon the others followed suit and they stood at attention by their horses.  
  
All was quiet, save for the rain pelting the ground around them. The carriage’s door opened and Garrett stood ready. His mother left first. Her dress was fine grey silk, trimmed with intricate silver detail. Her hair, grey with age and wisdom, lay pinned back with bright silver pins. She set her hand on her son’s and stepped gracefully from the carriage’s interior.  
  
His sister was next. Bethany’s dress was blue, cool like her eyes, and she smiled when her palm touched the cool steel of her brother’s gauntlet. As she stepped her slippered foot against the ground, she gathered her skirts to avoid the puddles and joined their mother at the top of the steps.  
  
Malcolm was last. Knight-Commander Abram had joined Garrett on the other side of the carriage’s door. He was an old man, his head bald at the top while the rest of his hair was stark white along the perimeter of his head. The black armor he wore was elaborate and accented with deep reds and golds. His face was weathered, but his features were strong and proud. His family carried the Templar Order in their blood. He was the first of them to be named Knight-Commander in over 200 years. Abram had plenty to be proud of.  
  
As two white gloves appeared and took the the two men’s hands, Abram bowed deeply. “Your Grace,” he said, his voice a rumble in his chest. Malcolm did not look at him, instead setting a sharp gaze on his son. Garrett did not seem moved. Instead, he mirrored Abram and bowed at the waist.  
  
“Your Grace.”  
  
Malcolm fluttered by them in a flurry of black robes. He swept by the rest of the Templars and ascended the steps and when he stood at the stairs’ landing, he turned to greet the crowd that had gathered. Soon the square thundered with applause when Malcolm lifted his hand and offered a blessing to them all.  
  
Behind them, the polished and heavy wooden doors opened and Malcolm disappeared into the warm darkness ahead. Garrett followed without a word, his brother and Bethany’s twin at his side. Carver strode to keep pace with their father and when they were alone, Malcolm turned upon them.  
  
“We’ve done it.” And he smiled. “We have ensured our family’s safety.”  
  
Garrett said nothing. Carver looked grim. Malcolm paced in front of them, all the while peeling the gloves from his hands and tossing them onto a table by a tall window.  
  
“But,” he said finally, stopping in front of Garrett and clasping a hand about the nape of his boy’s neck, “This is only the beginning. We are safe enough for now. For now.” His finger pressed into the sword carved into Garrett’s chest plate as if to press the importance into his heart. “There is still much to be done for our future.”  
  
“There is plenty I could do for our future were I not saddled to…”  
  
Malcolm slapped the metal and Garrett was silent. “There is good you can do for me here, within the Order.”  
  
“Father, I am a slave to these vows.”  
  
“For the good of the family!”  
  
For the good of the family. Always for the good of the family. Garrett did not smile. There was nothing to be done if he could not escape these Templar shackles. Protocol and duty bound him as easily as a prisoner. He could not do what truly needed to be done for the good of the family, if he was devoted to the Maker. He said nothing more, the hard lines in his face speaking volumes in his stead.  
  
It was as though Malcolm had not noticed. Instead, he squeezed his son’s nape in an almost affectionate gesture before he finally let him go. “I’m told Abram is looking for a new Knight-Captain,” Malcolm said and he shed his outer coat. At that, it was as though Carver had been jolted to life. He helped his father remove his Divine raiments. “Garrett?” he called from behind his changing screen.  
  
Garrett looked up when he heard his name. “Yes?” he asked sharply.  
  
“Did you hear what I said?”  
  
“Father, Abram is already considering me,” Carver said and Malcolm looked at the younger boy as if he’d gone mad.  
  
“No, Carver. Garrett will be Knight-Captain. You…”  
  
“Why is it always Garrett?” He gestured toward his brother and Garrett narrowed his eyes at Carver.  
  
“Do not do this now, Carver,” Malcolm chided as though Carver had only stolen sweets before dinner. “Garrett will be Knight-Captain. I have other plans for you.” He came into view again dressed in simple cotton.  
  
Carver wanted to say something more, but Malcolm silenced him with a hand. “I have other plans for you. Now, I will hear no more of it.” He looked between his sons then shooed them off. “You have your orders. Prepare yourselves for the feast tonight.”  
  
And they left, to do as their father asked.


	2. Chapter 2

Garrett’s daggers had a dangerous shine. The metal had been forged using forbidden magics in a fire that burned unnaturally hot. They were not his weapons of choice. Daggers as fine as these were not made for spilling blood. Instead, he wore them on special occasions and polished them almost constantly to keep his hands from being too idle. When people saw him, they gave him a wide berth. That always made Garrett smile.  
  
But Carver was unmoved, as his brother scoured an already brilliant blade. He stood with his back propped against a wall, arms folded. Garrett sat on the edge of his bed, sliding an oiled rag along the blade’s sharp edge.  
  
The silence stretched between them and tried Garrett’s patience. Finally, he looked at his brother levelly with an annoyed glance. “What do you want, Carver?”  
  
“You’re going to do it, aren’t you?” He asked, speaking as though he already knew the answer.  
  
Garrett’s sigh was brisk and he finally returned his dagger to its sheath. Carver watched him with critical eyes as he set his weapon near its mate on the stand by his wardrobe. “So, you’re here to ask me pointless questions, then.”  
  
“You knew full well that Abram was going to consider me for the position of Knight-Captain.”  
  
“And I would let you have it. Gladly. But it is not the Maker’s will. Nor our Father’s.”  
  
“Don’t give me that,” Carver snapped and he straightened to stand toe to toe with his brother. The Hawke boys were known for their girth. Wide chests and great height, with large hands and thick necks. Still, between them there was a barely discernable difference in height, if you only glanced. But Carver noticed and it set his teeth on edge. “It’s bullshit and you know it. What can you do, hm? What can you do that I can’t?”  
  
“I can think of a great many things, Brother,” Garrett replied with no small amount of amusement. He pressed a hand to Carver’s chest and pushed him back to put a considerable amount of distance between them. “Take it up with our Divine Father if you have a problem.”  
  
Carver scoffed, his hands rigid at his sides. He had worked years at Abram’s side and the man had treated him far better than his own father ever had. That position rightfully belonged to him. Would pummeling his brother ensure his consideration for becoming Knight-Captain? Surely, besting the Mighty Garrett Hawke would be the only test he would need to pass. But he stayed his hand when he met the hard golden gaze of his brother. Garrett was just as dangerous with his fists as he was with a dagger or a sword. “I can do this, Brother.”  
  
“And there lies your problem, Carver. Father needs someone who will do this. Not someone who can.” Carver finally fell silent and his brother sighed. Garrett crossed the room with a few short strides of his long legs and opened the door. “If there is nothing else, then we have a feast to attend and we both need to get ready.” He nodded toward the hallway. “So, get out.”  
  
His little brother left without another word and Garrett slammed the door shut behind him. What a trial Carver Hawke could be. But Garrett did not have the time to afford thinking of Carver and his feelings of inferiority. There was a feast to attend.  
  
He shed his templar armor in favor of the ceremonial armor of his Order. It had a hard black shine with red sashes trimmed in gold and the flaming sword branded with silver into the chest plate. Garrett had little love for this armor. He felt like a spectacle in it, rather than a warrior. If he had a choice, he would wear his leathers and watch the festivities from afar. If he had a choice, he would not be a templar. But he did not have a choice and so he tied the sashes about his waist and stopped at the second knot when a knock came on his door.  
  
“We are finished discussing this, Carv—Sister. What are you doing here?”  
  
His sister smiled and slipped by him into his room. She did not answer him right away, choosing instead to watch him as he hoisted his chest plate onto his shoulders and fastened the buckles in place. Bethany swatted his hands away and fixed the leather herself. “I wanted to be the first to see you in your ceremonial armor, Brother. I hardly see you in it.”  
  
“For good reason, Beth. It’s only for show.” Hardly befitting a rogue of the Templar Order. Garrett would have felt safer going naked.  
  
“Don’t you like being in the spotlight, Garrett?”  
  
He turned to her, tracing a finger along the curve of her cheek. “About as much as I love being a templar. I am a rogue, my love. I belong in the shadows.”  
  
His touch made her sigh. “Then talk to Father. I’m sure he’d let you to recant your vows. You could be a guard. Or a merchant. Or whatever else you wanted,” she said and took his hand in her own. Garrett would listen to her. He always listened to her.  
  
“I wish it were so easy. I have tried, but I am what Father wants me to be. He feels his purpose - our family’s purpose - is better served if I remain in the Order.”  
  
“Even at Carver’s expense?”  
  
Garrett worked his hand free from hers and took his daggers to sheath at his back. “Not you too, Beth.”  
  
“He is very upset about this, Garrett.”  
  
“When is Carver not very upset?” He snapped. Bethany did not flinch. She stood her full height and barely came to her brother’s chest. His shoulders slacked, the tension that seized him leaving him when he saw her expression. “It is out of my hands.”  
  
“Is there nothing you can do?”  
  
“I am neither Carver’s mother, nor his nursemaid. I will not hold his hand. If he has a problem, he should speak to Father.” Garrett was beginning to feel a little like a parrot.  
  
Bethany sighed quietly, and finally looked away. Carver had not put her up to this. He had not even told her about it. But Bethany knew her twin well. He didn’t always have to give words to his emotions. Not with her. She could tell, in the tense way he stalked the halls of the Spire and how curt he was with her and their Mother. It bothered him to have something he’d worked so hard for snatched from him in a matter of hours. It wasn’t fair. Garrett knew it, too. But, Malcolm was stubborn. There would be no changing his mind once it was made up. “I have to go back to the Circle in the morning. I had hoped to leave my family in good spirits. That we would all be getting along.”  
  
“We do get along, Sis. Carver is not dead and pitched into the sea, now is he?”  
  
“That’s not funny.”  
  
“I’m not laughing.”  
  
Garrett turned from his reflection in the mirror with his gauntlets in his hands. When he saw Bethany he stopped and touched her shoulder. “I will see what I can do for him. For you. Just stop looking at me like that.”  
  
Bethany could hardly hide her smile and she pressed her cheek into his chest plate. “Thank you! This will mean so much to him.”  
  
Garrett had a pretty good idea what it would mean. Carver would find some way to twist his good intentions. He would be ungrateful, as usual. But this was for Bethany. She wanted him to try and so Garrett would try.  
  
As Bethany stepped from his embrace, Garrett slipped his hands into his gauntlets and fastened them into place. Bethany watched him quietly, her lip drawn gently between her teeth. “Garrett? Would you be my escort to the feast tonight?”  
  
“What’s this all of a sudden?”  
  
She shrugged. “I don’t want to go alone and I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather go with.”  
  
Garrett smiled for the first time that day and took his sister’s hand in his own. “I would, but someone else is to be on my arm tonight. I’m sorry.”  
  
Bethany was disappointed. Garrett was, too, but he turned away from her and strolled to the door so that she would not see it.  
  
 “Are you going to marry her?”  
  
“I am promised only to the Maker, my love.”  
  
“The Maker understands if you love her. I’m sure she loves you.”  
  
The distance between them closed and he took Bethany’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. “She loves our name, Bethany. She loves our name, the fullness of our coffers, and our station. She does not love me.”  
  
Her gaze followed the length of his torso and stopped at his eyes. They were silent for a moment and then finally Bethany smiled. “Well, I love you, Garrett.”  
  
“And that eases the ache in my heart.” Garrett leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Now, go get ready.”  
  
“Yes, Brother. I will see you tonight.”  
  
When she was gone, Garrett exhaled and shook his head. The Maker was surely ignoring his prayers. He had never asked to be put into this situation and there was no clear way out. He had no time to think of one, either. There was, after all, a feast to attend.


End file.
